


le vent se lève… il faut tenter de vivre

by orphan_account



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Other, they're girls kind of well ancom is nb so they're afab and female presenting i guess, this one's kinda weird idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24141820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: it's not very funny and sort of surreal maybe if i did a good jobvery different from what i normally writeit's just an excuse to write pretty wordsyeah that's what it is
Relationships: Authleft/Libleft, Commie/Ancom, leftist unity - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	le vent se lève… il faut tenter de vivre

**Author's Note:**

> yeehaw ok  
> this isn't in the oneshot collection because works: 6 is very good  
> six is just a nice number if u want i'll type a whole essay in the comments about which numbers are good 
> 
> idk half of this is just me not knowing what the fuck an ideology is like they're not normal people, right??  
> so what the hell are they??? 
> 
> the title means "the wind rises... you must try to live" or something like that. i'm not very good at french

Ancom opened their eyes.

They had been caught in the odd space between being awake and asleep, drifting constantly but never going anywhere.

The garden smelled of honeysuckles, and the grass under their hands was soft instead of prickly and itchy as grass tended to be. They looked up at Commie, who was acting as their pillow, radiant as ever. Her silky, brown hair had wildflowers braided into it. Ancom thought she looked like a god, some sort of intangible deity they weren’t worthy of being in the presence of. 

“Ancom,” the words spilled out of Commie’s mouth as she caressed Ancom’s face. “Have you ever thought about how much people dislike change?”

Ancom nodded about as well as they could while resting their head on her thighs.

“But, they’re indifferent to the changing of the seasons. They may pick favorites, but they still welcome it because it’s not real change; it’s all routine. Spring is a purely transitional season. It ends so differently than it began, it’s almost asinine to call it the same season.”

Ancom thought they understood and nodded again. Commie brought them to their feet and led them away from where they had been resting. They admired the way the light filtered through the trees. They could hear music playing in the distance, a song they recognized but never learned the name of. 

“Have you ever wondered why you’re so restless?”

“Yeah, I guess I have.” Ancom said, looking at the back of her head, unable to see her face. They thought back to a book that had been read to them when they were a child. Something about how when people died it was because they let go the grass they had been holding onto to keep them on Earth. That might have been an odd concept for a children’s book. They wondered if they could just let go and let themself be swept up by the wind. To dissolve into nothingness all while gaining a new sense of wholeness. To gain a greater sense of meaning, no longer tethered to whatever the restraints of human consciousness kept them from doing so all along.

They wondered if they’d ever be able to truly let go. They would exist whether they wanted to or not just as long as someone believed in them. Sometimes they wondered what they had done to be stuck like this, always restless because they could never really get what they wanted. Their ideal society felt like it was fleeting and getting further and further away from them every second.

What even were they? They remember childhood the same way they remembered past dreams, fuzzy and hazy messes. There was no big picture, just small details they could barely remember. Sometimes Ancom wondered if it was even _ their _ memories. Maybe this was just something that came with being immortal. 

“Where are we going?”

“We are already here.” Commie looked back at them, her burgundy eyes twinkling in the late afternoon sunlight.

They were under another willow tree, but this time the leftists were in front of a pond.

“Ancap’s garden is far too big. She doesn’t need one this big. She’s not even outside enough to enjoy it.”

Commie smiled and nodded. “Yes, you’re right.”

It was times spent alone together like these when Ancom asked themself what they had done to deserve someone like Commie. Had they sold their soul or made a deal with the devil in a past life? Is this why they were doomed to spend what could possibly be eternity chasing a future that might possibly never come? Would Commie get bored of them? Will she grow to hate them? Will everything she used to like about them become annoying? Will their spontaneity become reckless impulsivity that stresses her out? Maybe Commie already hates them and is just too good to tell her, out of pity. 

Ancom opened their mouth to speak, but Commie quickly shushed them. She held the anarchist’s hands in hers. They felt like she could see right through her. They felt see-through as well. Like they could feel the breeze blow through them. Like there was longer any gravity to keep their feet on the ground. Maybe that’s why they felt like they were falling when Commie finally let go.

Ancom opened their eyes.

Commie was still caressing their face, radiant as ever. 

“I just had the weirdest fucking dream.”

Commie laughed a little. “Yes, comrade. I can tell. You were mumbling the entire time. It’s very cute.”

“Yeah, be quiet.” Ancom sat up and began to unbraid Commie’s hair.

“I thought you liked the flowers. You put them there in the first place.”

“Yeah, but you were being fucking weird in my dream, and, besides, you’re pretty no matter how many flowers I put in your hair.”

“You’re right, but it’s not like I didn’t already know that.”

“Why are you so smug? It’s cute and I hate it.”

“Naps usually make most people nicer, but for you it did the opposite. Who peed in your oatmeal?”

“Tankie it’s, ‘who pissed in your cornflakes?’ Who eats oatmeal?”

“I like oatmeal.”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s good.”

Ancom hugged her from behind. “Of course you would think that.”

**Author's Note:**

> tell me if this sucks or not  
> i don't remember the name of the book about the grass and dead people but i'm pretty sure it's a real book 
> 
> fellas i just wanna rest my head on some anime thighs  
> please take me out back and shoot me like an old dog in a novel
> 
> lol i found the book ;)


End file.
